


Soft Dom

by lola_lollipop_girl



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: (mentioned but not super present), Feeding Kink, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Other, Stuffing, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 20:36:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20180347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lola_lollipop_girl/pseuds/lola_lollipop_girl
Summary: "When the orders were obeyed, everything was fine. When Crowley tried to act out, things went off the rails, and not in a fun, kinky way. Things went off the rails in a loving-and-caring-angel-getting-overly-worried-about-punishing-too-harshly way."Aziraphale is a surprisingly good — if gentle — Dom, but he struggles with punishing Crowley when he misbehaves.Also, as you can tell by the tags, this is a kink fic, so.... those elements will Definitely be present in this fic! Don't like, don't read please and thanks!!!





	Soft Dom

**Author's Note:**

> Lovingly dominant Aziraphale is my current favorite thing in the world, so even though I haven't written fanfic in FOREVER I had to write this! Hope you enjoy it!

Aziraphale always ate first. 

Generally, Aziraphale was the only one eating, but this was hardly a typical meal. 

Certain details remained unchanged; Crowley was still watching adoringly— and still trying not to look as if he was watching adoringly— while Aziraphale exclaimed in delight after each eager but tidy bite he took from the fork. The most obvious difference: the fork wasn’t in Aziraphale’s hand.   
  
“Crowley, my dear, would you please prepare another bite of cake for me, preferably one with a little more icing this time— the last one was rather dry.” Aziraphale patted his lips with a napkin, then gave Crowley a smile that made him shiver, reaching out to entwine his fingers in the demon’s hair. “And it would be such a disappointment to end this lovely meal you’ve prepared for me with dry cake, wouldn’t it, darling? 

Crowley’s heart started racing. Aziraphale’s fingers were gentle as they wove in and out of his hair, but that could change at any minute. “Ngk. Yeah. O-of course.” He prepared another forkful of cake, careful to include more icing than he had on the last one, and lifted the fork to Aziraphale’s lips. In his excitement, his hand was shaking, and he accidentally left a smear of icing on Aziraphale’s cheek. 

  
“Oh, dear.” Aziraphale’s voice was terribly soft as he wiped the icing off. When all traces of icing had been cleared away, he started to move his fingers through Crowley’s hair again, idly at first, then with sudden, intense purpose. 

  
_Yank! _

Aziraphale pulled Crowley forward by his hair, then kissed his forehead. “_Do_ try to avoid any silly mistakes like that in the future, Crowley, dear.” He smoothed down Crowley’s hair and gave him a pat on the head. “You have such lovely hair— it would be a shame if I had to pull it all out on account of your bad behavior.” 

Aziraphale would never go that far, and Crowley knew it, but the threat still had him squirming. “Sssssuch a ssssssshame.”

When Crowley decided to tell Aziraphale about his. . . _interests_, he hadn’t really expected the angel to go along with them. Of course, Aziraphale still had his limits— there were certain aspects of human sexuality he hadn’t quite grasped yet and didn’t feel comfortable with, mostly involving genitalia— but he was willing to try quite a few more things than Crowley would have guessed. It hadn’t all been smooth— or rough— sailing, though. When Crowley first brought up the idea of introducing dom/sub dynamics into their relationship, the resulting conversation had been one of the most mortifying in his 6,000-year existence. 

“Oh, goodness!” Aziraphale exclaimed, horrified when Crowley casually mentioned that he thought it might be nice to get bossed around and slapped now and then. He put a gentle hand on Crowley’s back as if to reassure him. “My dear boy, I would never hurt you like that.” 

Crowley sighed. “I know you wouldn’t_ really, _but it’s different.” Taking in the angel’s confused face, he sighed again. “It’s like a game, angel,” he said. “We’d have rules and boundaries, and we’d both know what we’re playing at. I’d know you didn’t mean it. I’d _like _it.” 

“Ah.” Aziraphale was silent for a moment. “Do you. . . well. . .” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Do you think you would enjoy. . . hurting me in that way?” 

Crowley could feel his chest tighten in fear just thinking about it. He had far too much anxiety surrounding the idea of Aziraphale being hurt to want to inflict any kind of pain on him, even as play. Once, Aziraphale had burned his tongue on a cup of cocoa and Crowley had felt jittery and on edge for the rest of the morning, scanning his surroundings for nonexistent threats and constantly checking over his shoulder to make sure Aziraphale was still there. Actively causing the angel pain was unthinkable.

  
“No.” Crowley grimaced, feeling like a hypocrite. “I guess I see why you’d be against it.” 

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed. “But you _want_ me to hurt you?” 

Crowley rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?” 

“And you’d really like to try it. . .” 

“Wouldn’t’ve said anything if I didn’t,” Crowley muttered, wishing he had never brought it up. 

“Well, I— I can’t promise I’ll be any good at. . . dominating you, or that the punishments will be as harsh as you might like, but. . .” Aziraphale’s eyes shone with determination. “If this is really something that you want, I will do my best.” He stroked Crowley’s hand. “You’re always indulging my little whims, dear. I suppose it’s only fair I make a bit of an effort, too, now and then.” 

Aziraphale certainly did try. His efforts weren’t always successful, but they were always endearing. Even if the angel’s reluctance to play rough sometimes left Crowley so frustrated he could scream— in addition to performing other explosive physical tasks in the bathroom after Aziraphale had gone to bed— it was sweet, in a way, how careful Aziraphale was to make sure Crowley was comfortable and never forgot, even for a second, that he was loved. 

Aziraphale was very good at giving commands. They rarely sounded commanding; it was always, ‘_would you please_’, and, ‘_could you, dear_’, but they were orders nonetheless. Aziraphale’s smug smiles, the haughtiness in the tilt of his jaw, the gentle pressure of his elegant hands against Crowley’s skin left no room for disobedience. He was a proud, spoiled angel used to getting exactly what he wanted, and Crowley was all too willing to oblige. 

When the orders were obeyed, everything was fine. When Crowley tried to act out, things went off the rails, and not in a fun, kinky way. Things went off the rails in a loving-and-caring-angel-getting-overly-worried-about-punishing-too-harshly way. 

The first punishment they had agreed on was hair-pulling. Aziraphale already loved to run his hands through Crowley’s hair and had pulled it accidentally a few times, so it seemed like a simple first step, though it was one Aziraphale immediately stumbled over. 

“Was that too hard, my dear?” Aziraphale whispered after giving Crowley’s hair the weakest possible tug. “I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”   
  
“Too hard? I’ve had my hair pulled harder by a blessed _comb_, angel!” Crowley complained. “And what the Hell are you whispering for?” 

Aziraphale pouted. “Well, I just wanted to make sure everything was tickety-boo before you got seriously injured!”

Crowley groaned, burying his head in his hands. “For fuck’s sake, angel, _please _don’t say tickety-boo right now._ Fuck_.” 

Aziraphale pulled Crowley’s hair sharply, startling a cry out of the demon. “I happen to like saying tickety-boo,” he said, glancing down at his hand as if making sure the hair-pulling hadn’t damaged his manicure. 

Crowley stared at Aziraphale, one hand slowly reaching up to touch the spot where his hair had been moved out of place. “You should say tickety-boo more often. I love it when you say tickety-boo.” 

Aziraphale blushed and smiled, then he leaned forward and gently moved Crowley’s hand aside so he could kiss the side of his head. “Well, that’s tickety-boo with me, darling.” 

Now, Aziraphale had gotten more comfortable with hair-pulling and even managed the occasional slap here or there, though he wasn’t as heavy-handed as Crowley would have liked, and he never went for the face. Still, it was more than Crowley honestly would have expected from Aziraphale, and it was a definite turn-on. 

Crowley fed Aziraphale the rest of his cake without incident, then cut a second slice at the angel’s request. How Aziraphale could still be eating was beyond him; the decadent chocolate cake was the last course of five, all of which he had finished completely. Crowley was half-convinced the angel had miracled himself a bigger stomach, simply so he could eat and eat without bursting. Certainly, the fact that the buttons on his shirt had not come flying off was the result of divine intervention.   
  
“_The tease_,” Crowley thought, eyeing those stubborn buttons sourly. 

Aziraphale always wore a new shirt Crowley had bought for him during these sessions so he would not have to worry about any damage being inflicted onto his usual outfit. On this particular evening, the shirt was especially fine— white, as always, but with ruffled sleeves that Aziraphale adored. Crowley should have known to forgo the ruffles; Aziraphale probably liked the shirt too much to let himself ruin it. 

It was a nice enough shirt, but Crowley’s only interest was studying the way it strained to fit around Aziraphale’s round, stuffed belly. The shirt had already been snug around the middle before Aziraphale had started eating, highlighting the slight curve of his stomach. Now, it was bunched and wrinkled as it fought to keep itself from tearing, pale skin sneaking through the gaps between straining buttons. 

Aziraphale was so tantalizingly soft and plump, it was all Crowley could do not to sink his teeth into all that luscious pudge, to squish and squeeze every inch of his voluptuous frame. Now, with his belly swollen with gluttony, keeping his hands to himself was more than Crowley could bear. Fortunately, the angel was very indulgent. 

“My dear Crowley,” said Aziraphale with an amused smile. “Is there something you’d like to tell me about the way I look right now?”

Crowley licked his lips. “You look _deliciousssss_.” 

Aziraphale laughed. “My, you must be hungry, then.” He caressed the demon’s face. “My poor, hungry serpent.” He pressed a kiss between Crowley’s eyes. “Well, don’t fret, dear. I’ll take care of you very soon.” The angel’s soft hands wandered down to Crowley’s waist. “You’re such a slender little thing, aren’t you, darling?”

Crowley nodded, though Aziraphale had fed him often enough that he wasn’t quite as thin as he used to be. His clothes, already fashionably tight, were starting to get tight in a distinctly unfashionable way, and his formerly flat stomach was acquiring a new layer of softness. Crowley couldn’t get enough. 

“We’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” 

Crowley moaned in response, mouth already watering. 

“But, first, would you please be so kind as to help me with these buttons?” asked Aziraphale, toying with the topmost button as he gave Crowley a playful smile. “This lovely shirt has gotten ever so tight, you see. . .” 

Crowley practically threw himself out of his chair to get at Aziraphale. He started to tear at the first button impatiently, but Aziraphale gave his hand a warning squeeze, so he proceeded with more caution on the following buttons. At last, the two sides of the shirt fell away and Aziraphale’s belly was exposed. Crowley longed to touch it, but he couldn’t act without Aziraphale’s permission. He gazed up at the angel with desperate, hungry eyes.   
  
“Oh, very well, then, dear.” Aziraphale smiled and kissed the top of Crowley’s head. “Go on.” Crowley immediately smushed his face against Aziraphale’s stomach, making the angel laugh. “Oh, Crowley, careful! That tickles!” 

Crowley’s long, slender fingers poked, prodded, and pinched, exploring every wonderful bit of pudge they could find. Even fully stuffed, Aziraphale’s belly was still soft to the touch, though it wasn’t as jiggly as it would have been otherwise. Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s stomach gently, almost reverently and wrapped his arms around his angel. 

Aziraphale started stroking Crowley’s hair. “My dear Crowley. . .” His voice was so full of love that Crowley was glad the angel couldn’t see the ridiculous lovesick expression that had probably spread across his face. “Would you. . . perhaps you would like to give me. . . a kiss?” 

  
Crowley looked up at Aziraphale. The angel’s face was flushed and shy. This wasn’t one of his coy little commands masquerading as requests; Aziraphale never ordered Crowley to show affection. No, Aziraphale simply wanted to be kissed, and he was worried Crowley might not want to kiss him. Crowley’s heart broke a little for his poor, nervous, ridiculous angel. 

Crowley rose to his full height, so he and Aziraphale stood almost eye-to-eye. Aziraphale’s eyes lingered on Crowley’s lips, and Crowley couldn’t help but smile. He and Aziraphale both leaned forward at the same time and started kissing. Crowley reached up to caress the angel’s cheeks while they kissed. It was technically against the rules to do so without Aziraphale’s explicit permission, but Crowley knew how much the angel loved it, and he couldn’t resist. 

When they finally broke apart, Aziraphale’s eyes were shining with joy. “Oh, thank you, dear,” he breathed. “That was_ perfect_.” 

Crowley’s impulse was to make a sarcastic remark, but that wasn’t how the game was played. Instead, he ducked his head and accepted the praise, as well as the chaste, gentle kiss Aziraphale pressed onto his cheek.

  
Aziraphale pulled back. “Now, my dear, would you care for some dessert?” 

_That_ was a command. Crowley sat down immediately and passed Aziraphale the fork. “Yes, please.” 

“How polite we are today!” Aziraphale smiled and patted Crowley’s hand. “I do_ so_ love it when you behave. Now, put your hands in your lap like a good boy and let me feed you.” 

Aziraphale fed Crowley two large slices of cake, and the demon had to fight to keep from shifting around in his seat. He wasn’t used to eating large amounts at once, and his stomach, stuffed and stretching toward his thighs, felt like it would burst at any moment. Aziraphale could tell that he was struggling. 

“Oh, very good, darling.” Aziraphale gave Crowley an encouraging little pat on his newly rounded belly. “You’re doing so well, sitting nice and still for me, letting me take care of you.” 

  
It was all still part of the scene, but Aziraphale’s face shone with sincerity. Unlike the taunts and teasing, every bit of praise came straight from the heart. 

Crowley buried his face in his hands so Aziraphale wouldn’t see him blush. 

  
“Now, now, dear. . .” Aziraphale’s voice was soft as he gently pulled Crowley’s hands away from his face, but Crowley still shivered in anticipation. “Did I say you could move your hands from your lap?”

Crowley squirmed. “No.” 

“And you were doing_ so_ well.” Aziraphale sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to punish you now.” 

“It’s what I deserve.” 

Aziraphale’s kind face took on a worried expression. “Do you really believe that?” 

“_Angel_.” 

  
“Oh, right.” Aziraphale gave Crowley an embarrassed smile. “My apologies, dear. I—I mean. . .” He paused for a moment, trying to get back into character. “I mean, it doesn’t matter what you think you deserve, you— you _naughty _boy.” Aziraphale looked as if he wanted to hide his face the way Crowley had. “You deserve— you— you deserve whatever I decide to give you. . . which is punishment!” He slapped Crowley’s stomach hard, and the demon moaned, a mixture of pleasure and pain. 

“Oh, dear,” said Aziraphale, concerned. “I do hope that doesn’t leave a mark. . .” 

The slap wasn’t harsh enough to leave anything more than some temporary redness, but

Crowley’s mouth curved into a wicked grin. The idea of Aziraphale’s soft, elegant hands leaving cruel, ugly marks on his skin was almost unbearably arousing. “I hope it does.” 

“Hmph. Well. . .” Aziraphale ran his fingers lightly over the skin he had slapped, making Crowley shiver. He decided the punishment had not been too severe— if that_ look_ in Crowley’s eyes was any indication, the demon was quite enjoying himself— and picked up the fork again. “Now, are you ready to be good again?” 

Crowley nodded, folding his hands in his lap again, and obediently opened his mouth. 

“Oh, very good, Crowley!” Aziraphale beamed, delighted, and fed Crowley the forkful of cake, rewarding him with a kiss afterward. “Thank you, pet. Isn’t this so much nicer when you cooperate?” He fed Crowley the rest of the slice, then cut another piece, more generous than the last. “Would you like some more, dear?”

Crowley swallowed. “Do you think I should?” 

“I know it’s a little excessive—” Aziraphale smiled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “—but you’ve been so _very_ good for me tonight, and I think you deserve a treat.” 

Crowley’s stomach groaned. Just looking at that massive piece of cake was enough to make him feel sick, but he couldn’t possibly say no to Aziraphale. He never could, especially not _now_. Besides, the pain was part of the fun. “Give it to me.” 

“No, no,” said Aziraphale, still smiling. “You have to ask _nicely_.” 

“Give it to me. . . please.” 

“You know, dear, I’m not sure if you really want it or not.” Aziraphale started to caress Crowley’s belly. Crowley thrust forward, trying to create some pressure to relieve the ache in his gut, but Aziraphale’s touch remained frustratingly light. He moved his hand away, and Crowley whined in protest. “Oh, you poor dear,” said Aziraphale softly. He picked up the fork and gave Crowley’s belly a gentle poke, making him whimper. “Are you sure you haven’t had enough? You’ve already gotten so nice and round for me. I’ll only give you more if you’re absolutey sure you want it.” 

“More, more!” Crowley’s voice burst out of him in a desperate rasp. Then, seeing the look of warning in Aziraphale’s eyes: “More, _pleassssssse_.” 

Aziraphale beamed. “Oh, I was hoping you’d say that!” He took his time feeding Crowley the last slice of cake, praising him lavishly before and after each bite, telling him how well he was behaving, how handsome he looked with his lovely little belly all filled up with sweets he had earned by being _such_ a good boy, how he deserved to be fed, and doted on, and loved. . . 

There was still the occasional punishment— a light slap, a slight tug of the hair when Crowley acted out, unable to take the profusion of kindness— but it was clear by the way Aziraphale always gave Crowley a kiss or caress immediately after that there was no malice behind it. 

“Have we played enough for today, my dear?” asked Aziraphale, setting the fork down when the last of the cake had been eaten. “I haven't the heart to be mean to you much longer, and—” An adorable pink blush colored his round cheeks “—and it would be_ so_ nice just to hold and kiss and comfort you for a while.”

Crowley couldn't help but smile. Typical Aziraphale, blushing so innocently at the thought of kissing and cuddling as if he hadn't just engaged in all manner of kinky debauchery. “Alright, angel.” He leaned forward and kissed Aziraphale’s cheek without asking permission, signalling that the rules were no longer in play. “Cuddle all you like.” 

“Oh, Crowley, dear!” Aziraphale immediately threw his arms around Crowley, engulfing him in a loving embrace. “Please, _please_ say you forgive me for hurting you.” He pulled back so he could see Crowley’s eyes. “I know you like that sort of thing, but I— I do worry that I— but you know I would never actually—”

Crowley rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “I know, I know.” He gave Aziraphale a kiss on the forehead. “‘Course I forgive you.” 

A smile broke across Aziraphale’s face like a sunrise. “Good.” He nestled up against Crowley’s chest, not being able to get as close as usual due to Crowley’s distended stomach. “Oh, my.” He patted Crowley’s belly, then began rubbing it, his hands moving in gentle, comforting circles. “Does that feel any better, dear? Perhaps you’d feel more comfortable as a snake right now, until the stomachache passes? I could fetch your heated blanket, if you’d like. . .”

Crowley felt obligated to protest, to push back, but he felt so warm and content as Aziraphale fussed over him that he couldn’t bring himself to argue. He let himself be held and kissed and comforted by the angel he loved more than anything, savoring every moment of his affection. 

Eventually, he did turn into a snake— the sudden increase in his stomach’s capacity erased all discomfort instantly— and Aziraphale kissed him between the eyes, still murmuring sweet nothings as if his lover hadn’t just become a massive serpent. Crowley was glad his snake form couldn’t cry, or he might have been in danger of tearing up. His true form was something he had despised for millenia, but it had never made Aziraphale love him any less. 

Perhaps nothing could. 

With that comforting thought in mind, Crowley drifted off into sleep. 


End file.
